


I Know It's Over

by Auggusst



Series: Heart and Mind [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Angst, Betrayal, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Civil War, Emotional Hurt, Guilt, M/M, Mating Bond, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Recovery, Separations, Wakanda (Marvel), Wakandan Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23504239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: Steve has no choice but to leave his bond mate behind in Siberia, to bring Bucky to safety. The separation tears him apart, emotionally and physically. With no way back to Tony, Steve finds a way forward with the help of his team.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Heart and Mind [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670740
Comments: 53
Kudos: 274





	I Know It's Over

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this one is good? Imma be real with you chief, Team Cap content is not my favorite to write or consume but I hope it's entertaining. It was certainly needed for context. Both Steve and Tony are going to be suffering from this separation. Also poor Bucky just feels awful about what happened. Thank goodness he's getting the help he needs.

Steve thought his heart was breaking. It felt like a chunk of ice in his chest, really, filled him with cold, piercing pain as he started up the Quinjet, intent on leaving Siberia.

Bucky was passed out on the cot behind him. Steve doubted his body was taking well to the shock of having his arm blasted off so suddenly, not to mention the well placed blows Tony had gotten in. Steve had a few of his own to contend with. His nose hurt, and so did his cheek. That wasn’t mentioning the repulsor blast he took straight to the abdomen, and god knows what else. It was a little hard to breathe, and he felt a sense of fatigue like no other, but none of that compared to the way he was _feeling_ , the crippling regret and pain he felt. His eyes were still burning from unshed tears, and it was a little hard to think. He had a task at hand though, tried to focus on that instead of his body.

T’challa, who had surprised Bucky and Steve on the way out the door, had given them the coordinates to Wakanda a few minutes ago, offering his protection and political asylum for Bucky. He was taking Zemo back to Berlin, to get him arrested. Steve had half a mind to choke the man to death, to rip him apart for what he’d done, for the misfortune he had caused, but that call wasn’t Steve’s to make. He had to be content with the way Zemo flinched as he passed, catching a whiff of his scent, his Alpha pheromones flared to a dangerous level. His Alpha scent wasn’t as strong as he wanted it to be. It was tinged with sadness, with guilt, and that guilt washed over him with every step through the snow.

Steve couldn’t show his face in Berlin again, and knew as much, especially when he had Bucky. T’challa would have to deliver the villain alone, while Steve and Bucky carried on. Steve was more than acutely aware that he had burned his bridges; all of them. There was no going back now, no matter how much his heart begged him too, no matter how _wrong_ it felt to walk away, to leave his mate, Tony, alone.

He could still smell his bonded’s scent, albeit faint at this distance, but plenty distressed, twisted unpleasantly and hurt, in a way that brought tears to Steve’s eyes. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back, to sweep Tony up and to apologize, to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, to take back even a fraction of the pain he had inflicted. His heart called out to Tony, and Tony’s to his, and suddenly, Steve didn’t know if he was strong enough to do this.

Maybe if he could just… No. He couldn’t go back now. Bucky was the priority, was the center of all of this, and Steve owed it to him to bring him to safety. It would have all been for nothing if he didn’t take the next step now, if he turned around and ran back. It didn’t matter how his lungs were burning and how loud his thoughts were. He needed to keep moving forward, didn’t have any other choice now.

Steve clenched his jaw so hard it hurt as the jet took off, and drifted up into dark, snow-filled clouds.

He held it together, or pretended to, until they safely landed in Wakanda, and the medical professionals collected Bucky, and he was alone in the waiting room. It was blissfully empty, and although he felt open, kind of exposed, the blond couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They burned his eyes, slid down his cheeks in hot rivulets, and he let them.

 _‘What the fuck have I done?’_ he asked himself.

He couldn’t believe what had happened, what he’d done. Tony’s name repeated in his brain, a mantra of punishment, as well as longing. Steve wondered where Tony was, how he was feeling. How badly was he hurt? What had Steve done to him? Was he home safe, or somewhere else? Did he miss Steve? Did he want him to come back? Or had hatred replaced every ounce of affection? Had betrayal sunk too deep in his veins, the way it burned through his brown eyes at the missile silo?

Steve wanted him. He wanted him so bad. He wanted to wrap his arms around Tony, to hold him close, to explain it all, and to beg for forgiveness. He wished none of it had happened. He wished he could go back, do it all over again. If he had been smarter about it all, did it differently, things would’ve turned out okay. That was what hurt most of all. There was no way back. No matter what, he wouldn’t have the chance to do it over. It made him feel sick. There was a pit of despair growing in his stomach, as he considered the future, and the very real concerns they would bring. Would Tony be alright? Would _he_ be alright? Steve wasn’t sure.

Wakanda was beautiful. It was otherworldly, really, a beautiful mixture of tradition and innovation, a place like Steve had never seen before. The science of it all went over his head, even if he was used to Tony’s tech. He knew this went far beyond FRIDAY, or anything like that. The integration of advanced robotics and nanotechnology was seamless. It was no surprise, seeing all this, that Wakanda had remained isolationist, that the Wakandans were hesitant to share their advances with the world. He couldn’t appreciate it though, any of it, not with the way his heart was aching, with the cold that filled him despite the warm temperature here.

He ate some food, walked in the lush, colorful garden outside of the hospital, tried and failed to take his mind off of everything. It didn’t work. The colorful flora just turned white and cold in his mind, each blossom and petal replaced with falling snow, and dark, stone walls. When he looked at the ground, he was reminded of the darkness in Tony’s eyes.

He waited in Bucky’s recovery room when he got tired of walking around, sat with clenched fists and slumped shoulders, waiting for his friend to wake up. He didn’t know how long he sat, how long he waited for something, anything to change. Steve wasn’t even sure what he thought about. All he could feel was an acute sense of loneliness, the sense that something was _missing_ , because it was.

He felt some relief, at least, when T’challa and his sister arrived, Shuri having already lined out a treatment plan for Bucky. Steve couldn’t believe their kindness, their generosity, and neither could Bucky. They had removed the now useless shoulder portion of his old arm, and replaced as much as they could with smooth, Vibranium plating. They hadn’t given him a new arm, but Bucky wouldn’t need one for a while.

For every bit imposing and regal T’challa came across, his younger sister echoed it in radiating intelligence and confidence. Shuri commanded the room, took over from the medical professionals as soon as Bucky was stable, and relayed the situation with precise ease and clarity. Even Steve understood it all. He was impressed, to say the least.

 _‘_ _Tony would love her,’_ he thought, and had to drive down the longing ache that the thought summoned.

“Our plan is to put him under Cryostasis,” Shuri explained, standing at the foot of Bucky’s bed. The bracelet she wore displayed a supremely detailed hologram, which featured a virtual checklist and diorama to support her explanation. Steve watched with interest, rightfully impressed by how detailed it was.

“We can study him that way, expose him to a series of stimuli to determine exactly which concepts or situations trigger the reprogramming to activate. Based on Sergeant Barnes’ reactions, and the activity in his brain waves, we can begin to safely decommission his trigger words, to help him overcome his traumas.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, who seemed resigned to the concept, seemed comfortable with it. Steve doubted there was anything he was truly uncomfortable with, after all he’d been through. That thought was a reminder of why they were here, why this was worth all of the pain. The blond wasn’t necessarily convinced about the plan though. He’d hoped that he could stay here, help Bucky recover himself, but it seemed like he wasn’t needed. He wanted to stay, to be here. Being here meant he hadn’t failed, hadn’t destroyed everything. It meant he still had a purpose. Without Tony to come home to, he just felt… _lost._

“How long will he be under?” Steve asked, arms crossed.

“Anywhere from a month to three months. We want to be as thorough as possible,” Shuri replied.

That…felt like a long time. A really long time, now that Steve wasn’t sure of his life’s direction. He swallowed hard.

“I’ll be fine, Steve,” Bucky said, intent on soothing his friend. He may not have remembered everything, most of his memories surrounded by a thick fog, but he could clearly smell Steve’s distress, no matter how hard the Alpha tried to hide it. It was a familiar scent, one he didn’t like to smell.

“I know,” Steve replied, grimacing. “I know you will, Buck. I just…”

“You’re welcome to stay in Wakanda, to monitor your friend’s recovery,” T’challa supplied, sensing the root of Steve’s unease. He’d seen enough, in Siberia, to know there was more to Steve’s misery at the moment, but politely abstained from mentioning it. Steve’s business was his own.

What would Steve do though, if he stayed here? He couldn’t possibly sit around all that time, doing nothing. Doing nothing would only let him focus on his emotions, the way his bond mark was burning and how his legs felt a little shaky, the ache that had settled in the center of his chest and hadn’t let up in the hours they’d been here. No. Steve needed distraction, needed to feel useful, needed to make a difference. He needed to use the freedom he had fought for, now that he’d damned the Accords. He needed a team for that though, and his team was currently holed up in a prison, thanks to him.

He needed to get them out.

“I should go,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It sounds like Bucky’s in good hands here. That’s all that matters.”

“If you’re sure,” T’challa replied.

“We aren’t planning on putting you under for another day or two, Sergeant Barnes,” Shuri said. “Take some time to relax, and catch up. I’m sure you’re both feeling kind of overwhelmed.” She gave Steve and Bucky a nod, and a welcoming smile.

“Thank you,” the blond said. “Both of you. For everything. I know you’re taking a big risk, doing all of this.” He held out his hand for a shake.

Shuri’s smile only widened. “What the UN doesn’t know won’t hurt them, eh? And trust me, they know very little.”

“It was the least I could do,” T’challa added, taking Steve’s hand. “I wrongfully accused you, Barnes, and I am sorry for the trouble I have caused.”

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Bucky replied. “For everything. I can’t thank you enough for all you’re doing.”

After a few more pleasantries, and a quick discussion about contacts and resupplying, T’challa and Shuri left, and Steve and Bucky were alone.

Steve took a deep breath, sat down in the guest chair. He brushed a hand over his face, winced at the bruises that had formed.

Bucky’s voice cut through the silence. “You okay?” he asked, sitting up a little straighter in his bed.

“I should be asking you that,” Steve replied tiredly. His blue eyes drifted over to his friend.

“No. You should be asking _yourself_ that. You don’t look good, and you smell _awful._ ”

Steve bent his neck towards his shoulder, took a whiff, and grimaced. Bucky was right, he _did_ smell awful, like a wounded animal. Beneath the ever-present hint of musk, and clean floral scent, he could smell it though, the slightest hint of vanilla and whiskey, the lingering traces of Tony on his skin. It made his heart clench and mouth run dry. Steve didn’t know what to say.

“Look, pal, I can’t thank you enough for coming after me, for doing all of this. But honestly, you shouldn’t have. You risked everything, burned all your bridges. Your mate…”

“Don’t,” Steve said, and it sounded too much like begging for his liking.

“You should go back to him, if you can,” Bucky said.

“I can’t,” Steve replied, and he exhaled sharply at the realization. “I can’t. I—I don’t even know if he wants me to—and I’d be arrested as soon as I set foot back in the country.” He put his head in his hands, a well of misery bubbling up so quick he felt dizzy. “It’s over. _Over_. I fucked it up, I should’ve told him, I sh-should’ve—“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Steve. That Zemo guy. He _knew_. He’d been planning all of this for a long time. He played all of us.”

Steve disagreed. He shook his head, eyes sad and soft as he regarded his friend. He didn’t think it was possible to feel this much regret, to feel so broken. Steve had always been confident in his abilities, and his choices. Now? Every move felt like the wrong one. “I should’ve known better. We shouldn’t even have ended up in that situation.”

Bucky sighed softly, face twisted with pity. He felt guilty, maybe even more so than Steve, for all that had happened, and plenty more that happened before all of this. Logically he knew he was a victim, that the things he did as the Winter Soldier weren’t his fault, but they happened anyway, and he couldn’t change that. He wished it had all gone differently. He didn’t imagine the subject of Stark’s parents would come up, and certainly didn’t imagine the footage would be _right there._ Zemo had done his work, had played them spectacularly, and now they were all suffering the consequences.

He wished he could take that burden from Steve, could give him his happiness back. Bucky felt a sense of guilt like no other that he had taken it from him. It was unintentional, of course, and out of his hands, but he still felt responsible. Bucky struggled to find the words to soothe his friend. It was difficult to be a _person_ again, let alone help someone else with the struggles they were going through. He did his best, couldn’t offer Steve any less.

“Last I remember, you’re not a mind reader, and you’re certainly not a fortune teller. You couldn’t have known,” he said.

The blond made a dismissive noise. He still felt responsible, for everything. He wasn’t sure he could ever overcome the guilt, the cold, numbing pain that filled his limbs.

His friend seemed aware of that, knew that Steve would have a hard time digging himself out of all of this. It was good that he would be put under, that Steve wouldn’t be here. Steve was never good at being idle, from what Bucky remembered, and it certainly wouldn’t do him any good now.

“What are you going to do now?” Bucky prodded. Maybe planning Steve’s next step would help distract him from his emotions.

Steve considered the question, stared down at the floor intensely. What was he going to do? He couldn’t go home, couldn’t see Tony again, maybe ever. The sweeping sadness that filled him at the thought made his stomach twist unpleasantly, but he took a breath to settle it.

He still had a purpose, still needed to carry on, no matter how much he was hurting. Bucky was safe now, was in good hands. The rest of his friends weren’t. They’d taken the fall for him, so he could get here. He owed it to them to fix it all. He owed it to the world to continue to be its protector, to make sure people like Zemo didn’t get the upper hand again.

He took a moment to think it over, and spoke, brows set with determination. “I’m going to get my team. They’re in The Raft, locked up for trying to do the right thing. I’m gonna break them out, get them to safety, and I’m gonna do my fucking job.”

Bucky managed a smile. “That sounds like the Punk I knew.”

Steve smiled a little too. It was sad, regretful, but genuine. “Thanks, Buck. I’m glad to have you back.”

“Good to be back,” Bucky replied, and the truth in his tone gave Steve the tiniest bit of hope.

He caught hold of Natasha a few hours later. She was somewhere in Ukraine at the moment, covering her tracks; she was on the Secretary of Defense’s list too. As ever, she listened to Steve’s story with an open ear, sympathized with his plight. It didn’t take much to convince her to meet him, and for the two of them to break into The Raft.

“There’s no going back after this,” Nat had warned Steve, expression ruefully serious over the video call on the Quinjet. “Right now, there’s still a tiny chance that things could work out, that we could go home. But if we do this…”

“We have to do this,” Steve had replied. “There is no way back.” There was resignation in his tone. He was an outcast now, an exile, in all senses of the word, but especially in regards to his mate. He brushed a hand over his bond mark, which hadn’t stopped burning since Siberia, and hissed at the uncomfortable feeling. A sense of despair rang through him, that he wasn’t entirely sure was just his own, and he swallowed hard.

All things considered, The Raft wasn’t that hard to infiltrate. That brought some sense of relief, but not enough. The escape was a little hectic, especially given that Clint elected to stay behind. He’d had enough of all of this, was retired, and wanted nothing more than to go back to his family.

“I’ve been on the run before,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s not for me.”

Steve couldn’t argue with that. His archery and reconnaissance skills would be sorely missed, but Steve couldn’t blame him for wanting to go home. They _all_ wanted to go home. He wished Barton good luck, and he, Nat, Sam and Wanda made their escape. He didn’t feel any better, though.

Natasha handled their disguises, got them a place to stay. She apparently had plenty of practice and a small amount of money saved up for instances like these, and it made Steve wonder just how many times she’d been through this. Natasha changed personalities with ease. Not twelve hours after landing, she had dyed her hair, gotten each of them a few sets of clothing, and a handful of supplies. They were in Turkey right now, which was a little closer to Germany than he was comfortable with, but Nat insisted that the closer they were to danger, the safer they actually were. Steve had no choice but to believe her, trusted her judgment and expertise.

The tiny, low-key Hostel they were in now was highly anonymous, which worked in their favor, but the team still drew the blinds closed, talked in low voices. Steve sat down on the old, scratchy arm chair in the corner, feigning ease. Natasha could sense Steve’s unease though, his restlessness. They all could. It was abundantly apparent in his scent, in the waves of anger and discomfort that radiated off of him.

Eventually, Sam and Wanda were sent out for food, and Natasha got to work on consoling Steve. “Send him a message,” she had suggested after a few moments of silence, glancing at him over the paper map in her hands.

He naturally knew who she was talking about. Tony was all he thought about, since he’d said goodbye to Bucky, after seeing his friend safely put under Cryostasis. “I don’t know what to say,” Steve protested, hands feeling heavy and useless on his lap. “Nothing I can say will fix all of this. And besides, it’d only get hacked. I could compromise our position.”

“You know, pen and paper still exist,” Nat replied, smiling a little. “Surely you’re old enough to remember that.”

Steve scoffed a little. “I don’t know what to say. You should’ve been there, Nat. The way he looked at me, the way it all fell apart…I don’t think we can come back from that.” He really _did_ wish Natasha had been there. Somehow, he felt that it would’ve worked out okay, that none of it would have happened.

Natasha folded up her map, eyes sympathetic. “There’s still a chance, Steve. Your bond is strong, one of the strongest I’ve come across. He needs you, and you need him. You can’t give up on it.”

He knew she was right, as usual. “…I don’t know where to start,” Steve admitted.

“With a pen, and paper,” the spy replied, somewhat cheekily.

Steve rolled his eyes and exhaled softly, but it did make him feel a tiny bit better. “Thanks,” he said, deadpan.

“That’s what I’m here for, Rogers.”

A few hours later, after a trip to the convenience store, and another to a small, out of the way electronics store, Steve found himself sitting before a blank sheet of paper, feeling breathless, as his fingers tightened around his pen. He’d been sitting here for a few minutes already, trying and failing to untangle the chaotic thoughts in his brain, the vice around his heart.

He swallowed hard, glanced at the twin flip phones he’d purchased, and put his pen to paper, started the only way he knew how.

_Tony,_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please share your thoughts!


End file.
